


Stay

by Get_below_my_line_of_vision



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, M/M, Major Character Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-27 04:40:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16695622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Get_below_my_line_of_vision/pseuds/Get_below_my_line_of_vision
Summary: After a fight against soldiers, Enjolras is left for dead.Grantaire is a doctor, desperate to save any lives after this violent protest.





	Stay

It was cold, dark, empty. Frosts bit at his fingers, gnawing with pleasure as numbness replaced sensation. His eyes were closed yet he yelled for it to be open. His lungs felt suffocated, his ribs felt collapsed, and his legs felt distant from the rest of the body due to the harsh, freezing weather. Enjolras did not know if it was raining, whether raindrops splashed individually at his face or not. All he could feel was pain even though his entire body was left numb. There was no energy to cry, nor even be depressed upon this situation. All that circled his mind was that he had served his purpose; his fight against the soldiers were made clear. His beliefs would run in the veins of the townspeople, and they would fight. For justice. For his friends as well: brave Combeferre, selfless Courfeyrac, sweet Jehan, hopeful Bossuet, kind Joly, and amiable Feuilly. All beside him... dead. Enjolras could not feel much at all. There was too much grief for him to express nor contain. Instead, those sensations were stagnant. Left unsaid and untouched. Only if he had more time to live, he would be able to express his grief, But he knew his fate. He knew as soon as he lead the group. His friends... they knew it too. More than spitting at Enjolras, they shook his hand, wished for luck and marched with him.  
He lead them to their deaths...

It seemed like his last breath was let out until he felt head move. His mind was swirling like water, his thoughts were painful. All he wanted to then was to let go of this life. He wanted to be free. "You're alive," A gravel voice observed, "Barely... but that's okay, I'm here. I'll help you. I'm a doctor. I'm going to inspect your wounds."  
Enjolras hummed for that was all he could manage. He tried to touch the person cradling him (or so he thought), but his senses could not report back to his brain. His fingers were almost, if not, dead; purple, he imagined. Maybe his face was pale as well, sucked from joy and reality.  
For a second, he felt alright, his wounds were being bandaged up.  
"Cosette," the man ordered, "Quick, fetch hot water for me."  
Whoever the woman was, she ran silently. Or that Enjolras' hearing was dissipating. "Just..." Enjolras managed to push out the words out of his paralysed mouth, "Leave...me..." He felt another sharp pain in his ribs, "To die."  
There was a nervous chuckle, a deep one, it wasn't full of anything, rather, it was just an empty laugh: "I won't let you do that."  
"I have no r..reason to li-live." A tear (he could feel for it was warm) left his eye. He could finally express something. This triggered the memories of his friends. He desperately wanted to scream and roll into a foetal position, shout in agony, not of physical pain but of an emotional sort.  
"You do," The man whispered as he was tending to the wound, "You do, just think."  
Enjolras slowly opened his eyes, frightened by the bright light of day at first, then feeling calm as he saw the doctor. He was trying to help him. Somebody cared for him. He always thought he was an outcast apart from when he was with Les Amis, but at this moment, someone else cared. "What i-is y...your n...ame?"  
"Grantaire," he didn't even glance at him; he thought the corpse-to-be still had his eyes closed.  
"Y...you."  
Grantaire ignored what he had heard, until Cosette returned. She hurriedly knelt down near his feet, placing them in the buckets she had brought. "It's okay," she repeated, muttering away. Enjolras wasn't sure who she was talking to; whether her or him.  
"What's your name?" Grantaire spoke, meeting his eyes in surprise.  
"Enjolras." He tried to smile.  
"Okay, Enjolras, this is going to hurt." It did. Whatever he did, it hurt, very much.  
Enjolras felt great pain but liberty also. He no longer felt one of his primary pain. But there were so much more his mind was occupied on, Enjolras still struggled for breath.  
"Grantaire," Cosette tried to inform him, "His wounds..." She didn't finish her sentence. Her voice just faded away.  
Enjolras tried to grasp the situation in his head.  
All thoughts came to one conclusion in Enjolras' mind: he'll die.  
"Just... leave, please." Enjolras began to plead, "There's no point...I'm tired."  
Grantaire grabbed his head gently and stared at him in fiery tears, "You are going to live. I trust you. We'll make it through this."  
Enjolras smiled a little. His passion reminded him of the past. There was no one so determined for a lost cause. Then there was Grantaire. "I'm glad you're here, and I'm not alone." He muttered he closed his eyes. Grantaire stroked his cheek as a silent plead for him to open his eyes again.  
"You are not a lost cause." Grantaire sternly spoke.  
Enjolras could feel Cosette had stopped aiding him. She had stopped for a long time now. Grantaire had stopped, too.  
Enjolras thought he had given up on fate, that there was no future for him. Yet he could see one facing him. He could have met him by accident one day. Formed a friendship, even love each other. They could have had a happy, long life without any pain like this one. They could have been carefree for eternity.  
"Grantaire?" He spoke, lacking of energy. Every words he spoke was painful.  
"Yeah?" He had hope in his eyes, his beautiful black eyes. He wanted to stare at them for as long as he could. He focused on them. They were of a captivating shade.  
"Your eyes, they're beautiful, it's all I can see."  
"Yes." Grantaire murmured, still watching Enjolras.  
"It's all I can see," he repeated, "Your dark eyes."  
"Yes." Grantaire comforted him.  
"It's very cold." Enjolras muttered, his energy drifting at every second.  
"I know." Grantaire nodded slowly.  
"I don't want to go."  
"Then don't. Look at my eyes, and only them."  
"It's all I can see," Enjolras' smile widened.  
Grantaire paused for a long while, smiling, full of pity, but Enjolras didn't notice. "Can you see the sky?" Grantaire asked.  
"Yes," he smiled a little, "It's night. The sky is clear. Perfect darkness, like your eyes."  
"Yes, isn't it so?"  
Enjolras' breathing slowed. "Stay." He whispered.  
Grantaire kept silent.

Cosette softly called out. "Grantaire?"  
Grantaire closed the corpse's eyes. The world seemed mute to him at the moment. "He's dead."


End file.
